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Sixteen

Rhoswyn

“ M y daughter, I’d hoped it wouldn’t come to this.”

The Goddess’s mellifluous voice draws me from the dark depths of death with a sigh.

I really, really didn’t want to be in this position. I don’t even have the energy to be angry at myself for dying. At least, for all that went wrong, I managed to do something useful before dying this time.

“What the fuck?”

Caed’s voice echoes through the dark space, and my heart sinks like a stone. I can’t see him, but I can feel him in the blackness, close and yet oddly far away. Like he’s on the other side of a pane of glass.

“It wasn’t his fault,” I promise Danu.

“I warned him,” the Goddess replies. “And he took you there, did he not? He led you into that city and then abandoned you.”

I didn’t think my Fomorian could hear what was being said, but I’m proved wrong when he objects, “I was trying to end him! If he takes that medallion back to Fellgotha and uses it, he’ll come for Rose. He still has my name, all because of your bullshit decision to?—”

Caed’s words cut off, and I can’t tell if the Goddess has silenced him or if he’s thought better of raging at her.

“He’s not wrong,” I dare to whisper, struggling to ignore the way that the darkness blazes with the strength of her displeasure. “Elatha is more of a threat now than ever. If the bàsron come through that portal, how are we supposed to stop them?”

Prae said they had metal-based magic. If one of those metals is iron, then we’re screwed. My limitations were laid embarrassingly bare in Elfhame City.

I’m not capable of fighting anyone when that stuff is around. It fogged my brain until I forgot I had wings, for Goddess’s sake.

Danu’s presence surrounds me, her faith radiating through the darkness like a ribbon of warmth. “Never be ashamed of your victories. You retook your home at great personal cost, and I have never been prouder.”

Turning her attention onto my Guard, she continues, “You left your Nicnevin unprotected to follow your father in the hopes that you might gain the trust of your fellow Guards. You put your own well-being above hers?—”

“Except he didn’t,” I whisper. “He went after the threat. Caed is a warrior, not a shield. You gave me Jaro and Bree for that.”

I’ve seen them work together now. My unseelie mates—and I count Caed among them—carve through our enemies, while my seelie mates focus on my protection above all else. It isn’t just about their powers, either. Jaro and Bree don’t enjoy fighting in the way that the others do. They’re not competitive about it, and they don’t glory in the bloodshed.

Caed might’ve gone after Elatha, but I wholeheartedly believe it was only because offence is the only defence he knows. Lore is no different, nor is Drystan, really.

Maybe he was driven by wanting this over with and to be secure in his place in my Guard, but that doesn’t change the fact that he would never have left if he didn’t think I was safe.

As far as he was concerned, I was connected to Danu, had four protectors, and limitless power to offer them. In going after Balor’s medallion, he was defending me from a future threat.

It wasn’t his fault that things went so wrong.

The silence between the two of them is angry and absolute until Caed surprises us both.

“I’m sorry, Goddess.” Danu stays silent. “I’ve failed as Rose’s Guard from the day I swore the oath until you cursed me, and then I failed again.”

“Caed—” I try to interrupt.

“I apologised to you,” he reminds me. “But I owe her one, too.” There’s a pause, like he’s trying to find the words, and when he speaks again, he’s surprisingly solemn. “When you summoned me to give my oath, I was too young and stupid to realise that you were giving me a way out from under my father’s thumb. I only thought about how being Rose’s Guard could benefit me.”

“You were selfish,” Danu admits, eerily calm now. “But you were a child. Such is the nature of youth.”

“But I didn’t grow out of it. I didn’t stop seeing my mate as a thing I could use to help me survive. It wasn’t until after you cursed me that I realised it could be different.”

Danu humphs in annoyance. “I gave you that vision, did I not?”

“Not to question your divine wisdom,” Caed begins, sarcasm edging back into his tone. “But you may as well have shown me a vision of Elatha voluntarily handing over his crown. Laughter and love? Things like that don’t exist in the world, according to Balor. What you showed me… it didn’t make sense then.”

He pauses, then hastens to add. “I apologise for wasting the gift you gave me. I understand if you want to take it away, but…”

“But?” Danu’s imperiousness is back, and if I could, I’d hug myself to alleviate the tension that’s blanketing the space.

“If you kill me, can you make it so Rose doesn’t suffer?”

Danu’s ire fades. “Before I make my decision, daughter, I must know your answer. Do you wish to pass on?”

“Like fuck she does,” Caed answers for me. “Look, if you take her away now, you’re back to square one. A baby Nicnevin, a bunch of fae fighting one another, and Elatha back in his stronghold with all the time he needs to launch another, worse, invasion.”

“No,” I say, before he can get himself further into trouble. “I’d like to go back. There’s more to be done. Elatha still lives, and Eero is still holed up in his palace….”

I can’t leave my daughter to deal with my mess. More than that, I want to spend lifetimes of peace with my mates. I want to learn everything about the bond between us. I want to experience a fever with all five of them, to see Elfhame restored, and travel the queendom all over again for no other reason than because we can. There are so many things I haven’t done.

I even—and I’m so glad no one can see me blush here—want to experience what Lore calls a proper redcap fucking.

“Then my judgement is this,” Danu begins, ominously. “Caedmon, your curse remains unchanged, but for this lapse in judgement, you’ll be reborn with Rhoswyn, to experience what you have wrought upon her four times over.”

Just thinking about it makes me cringe on his behalf. Coming back isn’t easy. In fact, I’d probably say it was worse than dying.

But he’s already accepting her terms, thanking her for her mercy. The darkness is pulling at me, getting heavier, signalling that my return is imminent.

“You can do this, my daughter,” Danu whispers in my ear. “You have come so far and learned so much. All you need to do is trust yourself a little longer.”

I’m secretly glad that Danu decided to bring Caed back with me. There’s comfort in company, even when I’m floating in the pool, unable to do more than roil in agony.

Better still, through all of the pain, Caed’s fingers tangle with mine, catching and tensing with each wave. The two of us almost break each other’s bones with how hard we cling to one another.

It doesn’t make it bearable—not in the slightest.

But for the first—and probably only—time, I’m not going through it alone. And when it subsides, his blue arms are already there, trembling, and slick with water as he soothes my wet hair out of my face.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, over and over, as he pulls us both from the pool and onto the cave floor in a dripping mess. “I didn’t know. I swear.”

I would never, ever, have told any of them. They already shoulder too much self-blame for my deaths. This was supposed to be my burden to bear.

“We have to go,” I mumble through numb lips.

Even now, with him cradling me on his lap, I feel the cave rejecting us.

“I know, little queen. Just rest, for fuck’s sake.”

A stronger person might protest, but I’m drained, aching, and tired, and he’s so warm.

I lay my head on the unyielding muscle of his shoulder as he scrapes us through the narrow cave entrance, protecting me as best he can with his own body until fresh air caresses us both. The breeze is cold and soothing against my frayed nerves, but it can’t carry away the reality that comes crashing back in.

Goddess.

Danu’s words of encouragement and praise ring hollow in my ears at the memory of Elfhame covered in black dust. I can’t do that again. I don’t even know if I want to walk back into the city, knowing that my home has been filled with so much death.

I brought so much death.

Was it enough? Did Florian live? Did we take back the city? What about Elatha? My mates feel… withdrawn. Tired. Their exhaustion matches my own, but I can’t tell if that’s the aftermath of battle or something worse.

“She really could’ve at least let us keep some clothes,” Caed mutters, as he carries me through the undergrowth. “What does she expect you to do when you die in winter? Freeze your pretty tits off?”

My snort is uncouth, but he grins like I’ve awarded him a trophy, anyway.

“You think my tits are pretty, then?” I ask. His cheeks and the double points of his ears darken to almost navy.

“You’ve got five mates, little queen. You know you’re beautiful. If, by some miracle, none of the others have told you yet, then I’ll pay to watch you charm the truth from the dour knight.”

His humour lightens my mood, and I hide my smile against his skin at the idea of charming compliments out of my grumpiest Guard.